


Scars

by ConsultingTimeLord



Series: A Type of Ever After [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bruises, Domestic Violence, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-19
Updated: 2014-04-19
Packaged: 2018-01-20 00:15:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1489669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConsultingTimeLord/pseuds/ConsultingTimeLord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frederick was a lot of things but killer was not among them. Will glanced out of the window at Jack, who had just parked and was moving to step out onto the snow, and back at Frederick’s scared expression. The sliver of guilt grew when he saw himself in the man before him. Frightened, confused, and knowing no matter what was said, no one would believe a word. At the last moment he caved, snatching the gun from Frederick’s hand, walking to his back door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scars

When Chilton first pulled into Will’s driveway, attracting the attention of his dogs, Will’s first instinct was to call Jack and inform him. He could tell from a glance what Hannibal Lecter had done to him and, though it was unfortunate, Will didn’t need any complications to the plan that formed minutes after being released. He needed to lure Hannibal out and harboring or helping the next man in line to take the fall would be a damper on his plan. 

He didn’t feel particularly sorry for doing it, not at the beginning, especially after the long months of being under Dr. Chilton’s supervision and surveillance. Minutes later, when he stepped out onto the porch, he felt the slightest twinge of guilt under his hardened shell as the pathetic blood-soaked form of Frederick Chilton walked up the steps with a duffel bag in hand. 

He asked to use his shower and Will felt hard-pressed to refuse him. He told himself that it was merely to give Jack more time to reach him before Chilton tried to leave, but he knew that the man deserved at least that before being arrested. The dogs followed Frederick around, interested by a new person and his strange scent, and the shock from what happened had set in so deeply that he didn’t notice the furry pack swarming around him. Will watched as he walked down a hall to the bathroom and closed the door before he could settle in a chair to wait.

 

A half hour later, he was dressed and pacing frantically around Will’s living room as Will watched almost disinterestedly from a chair. Frederick was hurriedly repacking his duffel bag, talking about fleeing the country, and the pang of guilt in Will’s gut returned. He didn’t want to feel sorry for him, but he felt exactly that. He almost wanted to warn Frederick of his fate fast approaching but he didn’t. It would be better for him if he didn’t run and it would look good for Will if he turned him in. He needed to get close to Hannibal, and ruining his plan wouldn’t be a good start.

“No. If you run, you’d look guilty,” Will said, trying to avoid looking him in the eye.

“You did not run and you looked plenty guilty,” Chilton said, a hysterical edge in his tone as he shoved his bloody clothes into the bag. “Abel Gideon was half eaten in my guest room. I have corpses on my property. You just threw up an ear!”

He zipped up the bag, planning to take it and go, when the dull roar of a nearby car stopped him dead in his tracks. He turned to Will with an incredulous expression and Will turned away. 

“No. No, no, no,” he said, his panic levels visibly rising.

Will stood up to try and calm him down but he drew his gun. Frederick was a lot of things but killer was not among them. He glanced out of the window at Jack, who had just parked and was moving to step out onto the snow, and back at Frederick’s scared expression. The sliver of guilt grew when he saw himself in the man before him. Frightened, confused, and knowing no matter what was said, no one would believe a word. At the last moment he caved, snatching the gun from Frederick’s hand, walking to his back door. He ran out into the snow as far as the tree line and tossed the gun as hard as he could. As quickly as possible, he made his way back by walking in his premade footsteps, cleaned his shoes of snow, and grabbed Frederick by his jacket sleeve, dragging him to another door.

“What are you doing?” Frederick hissed.

“This is the door to the basement. Get down, stay quiet. I’m doing this out of pity and will not take the fall for you,” Will growled in a low tone. He opened the door and urged Frederick down the stairs before shutting the door behind him.

Silently cursing his weakness, he walked outside to meet Jack. “He’s gone, made a run for it to the woods out back.”

Then he stepped back and watched as Jack ran through his house and out the back door. He didn’t have the time to plan an elaborate, convincing set up, so he hoped Jack would merely think he got away. Through sheer luck, Jack returned several minutes later looking disgruntled rather than enraged. Will felt relief pour into him but he didn’t show it.

“You didn’t find him?” Will asked, convincingly concerned.

Jack looked up at him with a glare. “He must’ve had time to cover his tracks. Why didn’t you stop him?”

“He had a gun, Jack. What did you want me to do?”

Jack grunted. “I’m going to call in a team and have them search the area but he might be long gone.”

Will pointed to the expensive classic car in his driveway. “I don’t know how far he could get without that.”

Jack nodded. “We’ll take it, impound it. If you hear from him, call me,” he said making sure he caught Will’s eye when he said it.

“Of course.”

Jack left and the search team arrived soon after. Will complied with them perfectly, even joining in the search for an hour. When the sun set and no one found anything but a few footsteps and a gun, the team went home and the normal sense of silence and peace settled over Will’s remote home. He finally allowed himself to visibly relax and walked into his home, greeted by his dogs. For a long moment, Will considered leaving Frederick in the basement, causing a smile to cross his face, but he walked over to the door and opened it.

“All clear, Dr. Chilton. You’re free to come out now,” Will said.

Frederick walked hesitantly up the steps, looking around at the warmly lit house and the blanket of night outside. He dropped his duffel bag on the floor, prompting the dogs to swarm toward it and sniff it, and pulled Will into a short, tight hug. For that one moment, a moment full of genuine affection, Will almost forgot who was hugging him and hugged back for a millisecond before Frederick let go.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Graham. Will. I know you didn’t have to and I… I appreciate it,” he said, just happy to still be free. “I’ll be out of your hair and home very soon.”

Will shook his head. “No, Frederick, you’re going to have to stay here.”

Frederick’s eyes widened, eyebrows rising. “What?”

“Jack isn’t going to stop with the search teams yet, your car is gone. I’ve already put too much on the line for you to get caught,” Will said, picking up Frederick’s duffel bag. “No, you’re staying here where I can keep an eye on you.”

“And what am I supposed to do?” Frederick asked incredulously, glancing around the home that was nothing like his lavish house.

“You, Dr. Chilton, are going to stay in my guest room. You’re going to stay quiet and out of the way. At least until Hannibal Lecter is behind bars. Agreed?” he said, holding out the duffel bag.

Frederick frowned but grabbed the duffel bag. “Agreed. Thank you.”

Will nodded, eyes dropping from Frederick’s face to his own feet. “You’re welcome.”

 

The next day as Frederick slept, Will left to cut away his overgrown curls and refine his wardrobe. When he returned, he found Frederick on his couch with the dogs around him, flipping through TV channels. The blinds and curtains were drawn in every room, evidence of his increased paranoia since Hannibal attacked him, causing the whole house to be doused in darkness. Frederick glanced up for a moment but did a double take when he registered what he saw. Will started to feel uncomfortable under his long, examining gaze. It seemed like Frederick had to force his eyes away and make himself appear disinterested.

“Do you have a hot date?” he asked with a casual air.

Will sighed and crossed the room, setting a bag of new clothes down in an armchair. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

Frederick muted a children’s cartoon program and looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. “Who might that be, if I may ask? Certainly not Dr. Bloom after what transpired between her and Dr. Lecter.”

Will removed each piece of clothing, shirts, pants, a new coat, and tore away the tags. “Not that it’s any of your business, I’m going to meet with Hannibal.”

Frederick’s eyebrows shot up and his eyes widened as he sat up a little straighter, disrupting the small, white dog half on his lap. Will continued to rip off the tags, not meeting his eye. For a second time, Will could feel Frederick’s eyes raking over him, reassessing everything with the new information in mind.

“My god. You’re seducing Hannibal Lecter,” Frederick said, speaking in awe, surprise, and fear.

Will remained quiet, gathering up the tags and walking into his kitchen where he dumped them in a small silver trashcan. When Will looked up, Frederick stood in the kitchen archway in his rumpled dress shirt and dark pants covered in dog hair. He appeared both intrigued and concerned and Will felt unsure how to process it.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Will,” Frederick said in a warning tone.

Will shook his head and walked past Frederick into the living room where he stole his spot on the couch. “Hannibal Lecter isn’t the only one who knows how to manipulate. If I go back to him, I can make him trust me. I can make him fall for me. He wants to be my friend so badly that it will be easy. A willing fish to a colorful, tantalizing lure,” Will said, sounding emotionless but sure.

“And if this fish doesn’t take the bait?” Frederick said, turning around to keep Will in his sight.

“He will. After the incident with Matthew Brown, he thinks I’ve become the killer he’s wanted me to be. I am that killer. And if I make him trust that I’m on his side, well,” Will smiled sadly and shrugged, looking up at Frederick, “that would be everything he ever wanted.”

Frederick shifted uncomfortably, internally warring with something that Will was unable to sense enough to empathize with. “Just… don’t get yourself killed.”

Will narrowed his eyes. “Why do you care?”

Frederick frowned and dropped his gaze before walking past him to march up the stairs without a word. Will watched him go, confused but choosing not to dwell on the strange emotions of a traumatized man in hiding.

 

After initially attracting Hannibal Lecter to the bait, the game between them began and Will made sure to be in control of every step. So, when Hannibal walked Will to his door after an offer to both pick him up and drive him home at the end of their fifth session together, he knew that Hannibal would stop him from going straight inside, exactly as he did. He knew he would reach out and grab him by the back of the neck, exactly as he did. Hannibal pulled Will toward him roughly and Will submitted, allowing Hannibal to press his soft, eager lips to his own.

Hannibal forced Will’s lips apart with his tongue as he pressed him against the front door. He knew he had to make it convincing, so he entangled a hand in Hannibal’s hair, letting the silken locks slide between his fingers before tugging on them hard enough to make him moan. Then Hannibal made a move he hadn’t predicted as he untucked Will’s shirt and slipped a hand under, touching the flesh of his side and back possessively. He grabbed him hard enough to bruise, to mark, claiming him.

Will couldn’t help but wince at the pain and instinctively put his hands between his body and Hannibal’s. With a hungry growl, Hannibal grabbed his arms at the wrist and pinned him to the door as his lips moved from Will’s mouth to his neck. His grip on his wrists tightened, causing a dull throb to shoot down his arms. 

“Hannibal,” Will hissed through gritted teeth but Hannibal wasn’t listening. “HANNIBAL.”

Hannibal hummed into his neck like a contented cat’s purr before pulling back to look Will in the eye. He wore a question in his expression along with a hint of irritation around his eyes from being forced to stop.

Will didn’t allow his expression to waver, meeting Hannibal’s eyes with feigned ease. “I have work in the morning and should be heading to bed. Thank you for the ride home. We can pick this up another time. Soon,” he said with a small, forced smile.

His insides roiled. He felt sick and scared but none of that ever broke the surface. He was forced to wait to see if Hannibal would accept his excuse and Will actually prayed that he would. He prayed that he would stop touching him, stop looking at him with lust in his eyes. After a few long moments, Hannibal let go, stepping back to put space between them.

“I’ll see you at our next session, Will,” he said, back to his perfectly polite self.

“See you then,” Will said with a nod before he turned and scrambled to get inside.

Once on the other side of the door, putting a solid wall between himself and Hannibal Lecter, he felt a small portion of his safety return. His muscles relaxed but he still ached everywhere Hannibal touched him. Will wrapped his arms around his chest, trying to collect his mind and emotions but he could still feel his hands on him. His own hands shook slightly so he curled them into fists to make them stop. The world seemed to buzz and spin as his heart pounded. He closed his eyes and stole a few deep breaths, staying there with his back against the door until he calmed down.

It was his choice, Will knew. He walked into the situation knowing just how far it might go. Yet, that didn’t stop him from feeling contaminated by his touch. He rubbed at his arms as if he could wipe everything away before he finally opened his eyes. A flush rose to his cheeks and he dropped his arms when he saw Frederick standing across the room in the same clothes he’d been wearing for days, having been all he brought with him. 

“What is it, Chilton?” Will said, a little bit of venom in his tone since his private moment was violated.

Frederick shrugged, testing the waters by stealing a few steps forward. “I just happened to notic—”

“So you were spying, is that it?” Will snapped, stepping away from the door and drawing himself up, the predator making itself bigger than the prey.

Frederick’s expression turned pale, his lips a thin line. “I didn’t see much. But I saw enough that I thought I should check in on you. Just being a polite house guest.”

“Well, keep your nose out of my business,” Will said, brushing past Frederick on his way to the stairwell.

Frederick turned with him, watching his movements but not following him. When Will’s foot hit the first step, he couldn’t help but ask. “Did he hurt you?”

Will froze, feeling a deep chill in his bones, but he refused to look over at him. He couldn’t bear to meet his eye when he still felt Hannibal’s hands burning his flesh. He ran up the rest of the way and walked into his room, half-heartedly throwing the door shut but it didn’t click closed. He sat on his bed, where Winston lay, and covered his face with his hands. They migrated to his hair, sliding through the shorn curls until he was ruffling his hair to scrape out the gel, to get rid of everything that reminded him of Hannibal. He scrambled to completely untuck his shirt, to rumple and wrinkle it, as Winston looked on with a cocked head and a short, concerned whine. He unbuttoned the front, exposing his white undershirt, but it still wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever be enough.

When that thought hit him, his breath caught in his throat, causing him to make a short, strangled sound. Frederick entered the room at that, approaching Will with a worried look on his face. He reached out to him but Will pushed him away.

“No. Don’t,” he said through desperate gasps of air. “Don’t touch me.”

Frederick held up his hands in surrender. “I’m not going to touch you, I just want to help.”

Will shook his head, thinking there was no way he could help him but finding himself unable to say it. Winston inched himself closer to Will, nudging his head under Will’s hand, but he hardly noticed.

“Will, listen to me,” Frederick said, kneeling down in front of him so that he would catch Will’s eye. “It’s going to be okay. Just take a few deep breaths in, exhale a little longer than on inhale.”

He demonstrated a few breaths and Will gave in and mimicked him, taking several deep breaths until the world stopped feeling like it was about to collapse. His hands still shook and he still felt dirty but he could breathe again.

“…Thank you,” he said, almost reluctantly, but the relieved expression on Frederick’s face said he didn’t notice that or care.

Frederick nodded. “You were having a panic attack. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

Will wiped away the sweat that had built up on his brow and winced at the pain in his wrist that he just noticed looked swollen. He held his hand out in front of him, turning it to look at his wrist from all angles, noting that it had started to turn purple. Frederick saw the discoloration and frowned, his brow creased.

“Sure he won’t kill you but he’ll abuse you,” Frederick growled, almost under his breath. He reached out to grab Will’s arm but he remembered and backed off when Will flinched. “Would you mind holding out your arm? I can check to see if it’s broken.”

“It isn’t, nothing snapped,” Will replied but held out his arm anyway. 

Frederick looked at the discolored flesh and seemed satisfied before gesturing for him to hold out his other arm. Will complied and again he found nothing but bruises. Still, Frederick frowned and shook his head as he stood up, pacing a little between the bed and the door.

“I know this dance of seduction requires you to remain undercover, but do you have to debase yourself to this?” he said, clearly frustrated.

Will looked down at his hands. “He may say he wants us to be equals, but he makes it clear that he holds dominance. Defying that doesn’t end well.”

Frederick looked at him, his expression shifting from recognition to disgust. “He put other marks on you.”

Will stood up, removed his button-down shirt, and pulled his undershirt over his head. He held out his arms, showing his pale skin broken up by yellow bruises along his ribs, his collarbone, and the fresh purple marks forming along his left side. Will felt nothing, empty, as Frederick eyed the array of bruises covering him. He watched his face turn to one of anger, but he didn’t speak. 

“Well?” Will asked, baiting him to say anything.

Frederick looked down at his feet, deep in thought, before he grabbed his own shirt, untucking it and lifting it up. Will stared, shocked, at the scar running along his abdomen where he was put back together after Abel Gideon took him apart. Will dropped his arms and glanced down at his bruises. When he looked back up, Frederick had dropped his shirt and was meeting his eyes. 

“Put your shirt back on. We’re going to take a bottle of anything from your liquor cabinet and play a drinking game I invented while watching late night infomercials during my long period of insomnia,” Frederick said. 

Will hesitated but when he saw that Frederick was already leaving the room, he pulled the white, cotton shirt back on and walked after him. “Is it fun?” Will said, curious.

Frederick paused at the bottom of the stairs and turned around to face Will. “No. But you’ll be drunk in no time and have a dreamless sleep.”

Will remained expressionless until Frederick turned around and stalked off to the kitchen. Only when he was out of sight did he allow a smile to make a brief appearance. 

 

When Will woke up the next morning, his head pounded and he felt grateful that all the shades were drawn. He groaned and cleared away the blurriness in his eyes, surprised to find himself still on the couch, leaning up against the arm in a way that his neck would complain about later. Even more surprising is what he discovered when he glanced down, Frederick sprawled out on the other half of the couch with his head resting on Will’s stomach. He had his arm underneath Will’s back, holding onto him loosely.

He felt intrigued and endeared, watching Frederick in such a peaceful and vulnerable state. He moved carefully after a few moments, intending to dislodge himself without disturbing him, when the sound of a car reached his ears. Panic seized his heart and lungs, causing both to stop working for a fraction of a second. He abandoned his careful movements, choosing to shake Frederick awake.

“Frederick, come on. Wake up!” he hissed, jostling him until he groaned and shifted his weight.

He blinked and winced, feeling the same pain Will felt. When he realized the position he was in, he immediately removed his arm and sat up. “Well, that was fairly compromising.”

“There’s someone outside,” Will said urgently, standing up and grabbing Frederick’s arm.

He dragged him up off the couch to the door of his basement just as Frederick registered the words. 

“Oh, shit,” Frederick said, glancing around the room as Will opened the door.

“Frederick!” he said, stealing back his attention before ushering him down the steps.

“Don’t forget the glasses and the bottle!” he called from the bottom of the steps and Will nodded. 

He shut the door, picked up the glasses and empty bottle of whisky and decided to just throw them all in the trash in his panic. He rushed to a window and looked outside in time to see Jack walking up the steps of his porch. Will stepped away from the window and waited until the doorbell rang, waiting still for a few moments after that. He stumbled his way to the door, trying to look like he’d just woken up when he opened it.

“Jack?” Will said, squinting at the morning light that poured into his home.

“We need to talk,” he said, waiting just outside of Will’s door.

Will felt hesitant, nervous about him finding something that showed he hadn’t been living alone, but he couldn’t say no. “Come in,” he said as he stepped out of the way.

Jack stepped in and removed his hat before taking a seat. Will moved with him, sitting on the couch opposite him, and looked up expectantly.

“We still haven’t found Dr. Chilton,” Jack said, his expression serious.

Will put on a mildly surprised expression. “I didn’t know he could hobble that fast.”

Jack frowned, not taking his sarcasm kindly. “This isn’t a joke. We need to find him and bring him in.”

“Chilton isn’t the ripper, Jack. We both know that,” Will said, sitting back on the couch as he tried to ignore his screaming hangover.

Jack nodded. “I know. But we won’t catch the actual ripper if he thinks we aren’t falling for his plan.”

“You’re still looking, aren’t you? I don’t think we’ve given the ripper a reason to think we doubt him,” Will replied, glancing toward the basement door. 

Jack sat forward in his chair and lowered his voice, though he didn’t need to. “How are your sessions with Hannibal going?”

Will’s insides shivered but he kept his outer shell calm and cool. “Our relationship is progressing. I’m hoping he’ll show me what I’m looking for soon.”

Jack stood up and replaced his hat on his head. “Just remember to stay safe and keep me informed. We’re going to get him, Will.”

Will gave a curt nod, both hoping that statement were true and wishing he wouldn’t have to see Hannibal again.

“There’s a case nearby. I wanted to know if you’d be willing to consult for the FBI again. Hannibal will be there as well but he seems eager to work with you as a team,” Jack said as they walked to the door.

“I bet he does,” Will mumbled. “I’ll, um, get dressed and meet you outside.”

Jack turned and left, closing the door behind him, leaving Will alone. He stood in silence for a long moment, feeling ill about going out into the field with Hannibal at his side, until he heard soft footsteps from the basement stairs. Frederick quietly walked into the living room and kept his voice low when he spoke.

“You’re going to go back out there after what happened to you last night?”

“What am I supposed to do, Frederick? Don’t you want your freedom back?” Will said, exasperated and hopeless. “Don’t you want to be back in your own home?”

Frederick missed a beat, staring at Will for a long moment. “Not at the cost of a life. Of your life.”

“My life is just fine,” Will snapped as he walked out and up the steps, heading to his bedroom to fix his hair and grab a shirt.

He heard Frederick climb the steps a couple of minutes later but was surprised to hear him go straight into the guest room and shut the door. Will ignored it in favor of everything else he felt in that moment. The disgust, the fear, the reluctance, but he forced himself to walk back down the steps and grab his new coat by the door. He crossed the room to the front door and was about to leave when he noticed something different about his coffee table. He paused and looked, spotting a glass of water and a couple of small, white migraine pills. Will looked to the stairs, feeling a spark of guilt flare up in his gut, before taking the pills and draining the water. 

 

In the next few weeks, Will spent more time with Hannibal than at home, immersing himself in his life and world until he gave Will enough rope to hang him with. Unfortunately, it was turning out to be a much slower process than he hoped for. When they were together, Hannibal kept a hand on him, continuing to stake his claim every chance he had. 

Each moment in that world broke Will, seconds ticking off like fractures to his sanity and sense of self. Hannibal was slowly breaking him like a stallion and Will could feel it happening. The first chance he got, he left Hannibal’s side and went home. He said it was to check on his dogs, his usual excuse, but it was also an opportunity to breathe. He returned home around noon with some groceries in tow and walked in to find Frederick asleep on the couch.

The contents of Will’s liquor cabinet were scatted around the coffee table and the floor, though he didn’t need to see it all to know Frederick had been drinking. He reeked of alcohol to the point where the dogs lay on the floor far away from him. Will sighed and walked into the kitchen to set the bags down before he headed back to the living room. He checked to make sure Frederick hadn’t died from alcohol poisoning before he gave the couch a hard kick, startling him awake.

“Oh, it’s you,” Frederick said in a thick, tired tone after the initial panic wore off. “You still live here?”

“Very funny, Frederick. I might as well just leave you on your own for weeks. You’d learn your lesson about not drinking yourself to death,” Will said as he picked up the empty bottles.

“By drinking myself to death?” Frederick replied with a raised eyebrow. “It’s not like there’s anything else to do.”

Will glared at him before carrying the bottles to the kitchen. He set them on one of his counters to recycle later before he started unpacking the food, an entirely vegetarian diet, not just because Frederick couldn’t process protein but also because Will had long since lost the taste for meat. He became so focused on the task that he didn’t even notice Frederick had come out and started helping him until there was nothing else to store away. He crumpled up the empty plastic bags and moved to throw them away when he noticed Frederick staring at him with an odd expression.

“You’re starting to look like him, you know,” Frederick said, his face unreadable. “It’s around the eyes.”

Will shook his head and tossed the plastic bags in the trash. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You wouldn’t when you spend all of your time with him.”

Will sighed, feeling drained of both energy and emotion. “Frederick, if you shut up and go take a shower, I’ll make lunch.”

Frederick shrugged and turned to leave, but he paused for a moment in the archway where he turned and made a gesture encircling his eyes before continuing on.

_It’s around the eyes._

Will glared at him until he walked up the stairs, then his façade crumbled. Everything he’d been feeling, the pain, the sadness, the self-hatred all poured out from behind the barrier he’d erected. Unable to keep himself from looking, Will grabbed his silver toaster and looked at his reflection in the side. He hoped that Frederick was just seeing things, but his heart dropped when he realized he saw it too. The cold, controlled, emotionless eyes. Dead, as if a light on the inside had flickered out. 

He dropped the toaster to the counter and pushed it away from him with a shaky hand. Rather than deal with the problem, he hid it away, out of his thoughts, and set to making lunch as he promised he’d do.  
Fifteen minutes later, Frederick descended the stairs, rolling up the sleeves of a plaid shirt that didn’t belong to him. Will instantly recognized it as one of his own, causing him to drop the knife he was using to chop up onions. He stepped away from the counter, staring at Frederick incredulously while Frederick looked entirely impassive. 

“I hope you don’t mind, I borrowed some of your old clothes. I was getting tired of mine and I figured, since you’re the new Hannibal, why not be the new Will Graham? The boy wonder,” he said with a dramatic flourish of his hands. “I can’t be Frederick Chilton anymore. He’s on the run for murder and his career is over.”

“Your career isn’t over. You’re not the ripper,” Will said, ignoring the rest of his words because of the way they stuck in his heart like pins.

“No? Someone hasn’t been watching the news,” Frederick said as he swaggered his way into the kitchen and leaned his back against the wall. “I watch it every night, hoping one day they’ll say my name is cleared, but the day never comes. Even when it does, people will still associate the ripper’s name with mine. But you’re missing the real point here, Will.”

Will looked away from him and picked the knife back up, holding it tightly enough that his knuckles turned white. “…I’m not the new Hannibal.”

“It’s what he’s making you into.”

Will snapped and stabbed the end of the blade into his wood cutting board, causing Frederick to flinch away. “I’m my own person.”

“Are you?” Frederick said, moving into the archway out of the kitchen to give himself a way out. “You seem like his clone, new and untrained, but all the hateful personality.”

Will stole two great strides and shoved Frederick in the chest as hard as he could, making him stumble into the living room. They moved backward that way, Will stalking and Frederick fleeing. “That’s not me.”

Frederick paused, taking a stand and planting his feet, causing Will to halt mid-step. “You’re right. It’s not you. You may not have been receptive toward my attempts at testing until the end of our time together in hospital, but I know enough to be able to say it is not you. And you’ve forgotten that.”

All of the anger and hatred Will felt building ran cold, Frederick’s words striking him like spears of ice. His fists uncurled and fell limp at his sides and every feeling he’d pushed down bubbled its way up to the surface. He found his way to the couch and sat down as realization consumed him along with feelings of sadness and self-hatred. 

Hannibal had been changing him, slowly, and he accepted it because he needed to stay at his side until he found the evidence that would damn him. He just hadn’t realized how much he’d gotten to him, how deep it ran. He looked up at Frederick and saw a mirror reflecting back his original self, the one he wanted and needed to return to. That reflection in him made him see the bruises on his flesh and the bitter poison in his heart. 

He dropped his head in his hands, fighting to keep every rising emotion from leaking out through his tears, when he felt a hand touch his back. He lashed out, striking the hand’s owner, seeing only Hannibal in his mind’s eye, but quickly withdrew when he saw Frederick. 

“…I’m sorry,” he said in an monotonous, shocked voice, keeping the offending hand close to his body as if it might strike out again of its own accord. 

Frederick didn’t say anything, he simply replaced his hand on Will’s back in a comforting gesture, sitting down on the couch, moving slowly to make sure Will wouldn’t react negatively. Will leaned hard into the touch, the first kind hand on him in a long time, and Frederick held him, keeping Will close to his chest but with a gentle grip to say that he was there for him and he wouldn’t hurt him. 

“I don’t know who I am anymore,” Will said in a hushed tone, almost as if he were conversing with his old self, the self before he met Hannibal Lecter.

“You know deep down,” Frederick said, his voice causing a vibration in his chest that had a calming effect on Will. “I know you have to see this through to the end for the both of us but I’m here. I can ground you. Because I know who you are, Will Graham.”

Will relaxed into Frederick’s hold and they stayed like that for a long while as Will tried to piece himself back together.

 

Hannibal finally slipped up, incriminating himself with words said over a wire worn under Will’s clothes. He confessed to the Chesapeake Ripper murders to Will alone after some prompting and the FBI on the other end swooped in and took him away with Hannibal smiling all the while. Will didn’t remember much but that smile. It unsettled him. 

Despite that, he had never felt better than when he saw Hannibal Lecter being carried out in handcuffs, paying for the crimes he tried to pin on anyone else. He felt a swell of satisfaction and relief, though he didn’t know if he’d ever feel completely safe again. However, the pinnacle of his wave of positive emotions originated from the fact that he was able to go home and tell Frederick the good news.

Will didn’t want to stay to see him processed, instead he rushed home at one in the morning and was greeted by half of his dogs. The house seemed oddly silent, causing Will to be careful and quiet with his movements. He walked up the steps after not finding Frederick in the living room and discovered him lying on top of the guest bed with the rest of Will’s dogs around him, including Winston curled up at his back.  
He couldn’t help but smile as the rest of the dogs climbed up on the bed, each finding a free space to lie. Will walked around and reached out, shaking Frederick enough to wake him up. He rolled over onto his back, forcing the dogs to readjust. He looked up at Will, bleary eyed and confused.

“What are you doing here? Didn’t expect you back home for a while,” he said, his voice thick with sleep.

“We got him, Frederick,” Will said, hardly able to contain his happiness. “Hannibal Lecter has been arrested.”

It required a few moments for the words to register but when it did, his eyes widened and he jumped up on the bed so that he sat on his knees, startling most of the dogs off the bed. “You’re serious?”

“More than I’ve ever been about anything,” Will replied, a smile brightening his face.

In the joy of the moment, Frederick pulled Will into a hug with enough force to pull him down onto the bed. He laughed, the first time Will ever heard him laugh, and it filled Will with more warmth than watching Hannibal being taken in had. 

“I’m sorry,” Frederick said, lying on his back after letting Will go. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt that ha—”

Will grabbed Frederick’s face, kissing him breathless, taking the words from his mouth. He swung a leg around Frederick, sitting in his lap without breaking their kiss. Frederick’s hands found Will’s thighs, drawing him closer before they wandered up to Will’s shirt. He untucked the soft fabric, pulling the shirt up, gently caressing the skin. When his hands touched Will’s stomach, Will jerked back, flinching away.

“I’m sorry, Will. We don’t have to do anything,” Frederick said, concerned.

Will shook his head and covered his face. “No. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I’m afraid I disagree,” Frederick said, staring at Will’s lips as he spoke.

He wrapped his arms around Will’s waist and pulled them both down onto the bed so that they were laying side-by-side, facing each other. He kept his arms close to his body for Will’s sake, which he appreciated.  
“You can leave or we can just lay here. I won’t touch you. I am at your mercy.”

Will looked him over, assessing him before moving closer and pressing their foreheads together. He reached out and grabbed the back of Frederick’s neck, pulling him in for a short but deep kiss. It made Will’s head feel light and his heart swell, but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything more. But Frederick seemed more than happy to lay there with him until the dogs came back and they all fell asleep.

The next morning, a loud ringing woke them both up. After a few rings, Will realized it was his phone and he scrambled for it in his jacket pocket. He answered it without looking to see who it was but Jack started speaking before he had the chance to say hello. 

“He wants to see you, Will. Hannibal. You don’t have to go, but I thought I should let you know before anyone else tries to contact you,” he said, short and to the point.

“Oh. Okay. Thank you for letting me know,” Will said groggily before hanging up.

“What was that about?” Frederick said, his eyes still closed, his mind half asleep.

“Hannibal requested to see me,” Will said, unsure of what to think or do.

Frederick’s eyes opened and he looked worried. “You’re not thinking of going, are you?”

“I… think I am,” Will replied. “I think I should. I think you should come with me. For closure.”

“We can get the same closure by watching it all on the eight o’clock news. We can make popcorn and laugh.”

“Frederick,” Will said sternly.

He sighed and dramatically rolled over onto his back before turning his head to look at Will. “Oh, fine. But I’d like to stop by my home first. I’m going to wear my own clothes and get my cane. That man will not see how he’s ruined me.”

Will nodded in understanding. And he did understand. That was the point of facing one’s demons, to show them that they didn’t win. He leaned over and kissed Frederick on the forehead before rolling out of bed to get dressed.

 

They arrived at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane several hours later. Frederick dressed in this best suit with his black and silver cane in hand and Will was dressed down, looking a lot like his old self. Jack was there already, set up to play mediator, and was deeply surprised to see Dr. Frederick Chilton at Will’s side when they walked through the door. He opened his mouth to speak but Will cut him off.

“Jack, I’ve been hiding Frederick in my house. It’s a problem we can discuss later but we’re all aware he’s innocent. Let’s just get this over with,” Will said, shutting down the subject.

Frederick nodded, standing up a little straighter. “What he said.”

Jack sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose but didn’t say anything more about it. Instead, he led them inside, past rows of empty cells, until they approached the one Hannibal stood in. He wore the uniform dark blue jumpsuit, looking slightly disheveled while keeping the composure of confidence. If he was at all surprised to see Frederick, he didn’t show it.

“Will, it’s good to see you,” Hannibal said, completely ignoring Frederick as he and Will stared at each other like warring vipers, ready to strike at a moment’s notice. 

“I can’t really say the same.” Will felt anger rising for everything Hannibal had done to him, all he’d gone through, but when Frederick reached out and held his hand, stroking the pulse on his wrist with his thumb, it all disappeared. That’s when Hannibal finally acknowledged Frederick, looking from their clasped hands to his face with a sober expression. 

“Dr. Chilton. Imagine seeing you here. I thought you were still on the run,” Hannibal said, bitterness touching his tone.

“Turns out I didn’t need to run that far,” he said, squeezing Will’s hand. 

“No, lucky for you,” he said, pointedly looking at the cane in his hand. “I don’t think you would’ve made it.”

Frederick shifted uncomfortably, feathers ruffled, but Will squeezed his hand in return, to let him know he was still there for him.

“Those are big words for the man behind bars,” Will said, watching Hannibal with a steady glare.

Hannibal smiled and gave a dark laugh. “I’m here for now, yes. So, please, feel free to cultivate a sense of safety from that.”

Will saw the muscles in Frederick’s jaw working as he clenched he teeth. “Jack, I think it’s time we go. I’ve gotten all I wanted from this.”

“Will, I hope to see you again soon,” Hannibal said as Jack started to lead them away.

“Trust me, I won’t be back,” Will said, keeping a firm grip on Frederick’s hand refusing to look behind him, but Hannibal’s voice echoed after him, always keen to have the final word.

“We’ll see,” he said, the words filling the dark hallway and Will’s ears.

 

Outside of the hospital, Will and Frederick lingered together, each dwelling on their recent experience in their own way. Will was filing everything Hannibal related from the last couple of months away, placing it at the back of his brain where it wouldn’t bother his waking mind. Will looked over to Frederick and saw he had his eyes closed, appreciating the sunlight he hadn’t gotten to see in a long time.

“So, Dr. Chilton, you’re free again,” Will said, avoiding looking at him directly because of the worry that fluttered in his chest of what he might say. “What do you want to do?”

Frederick opened his eyes and looked into Will’s. “Well, Mr. Graham, I think I’d like to go out to lunch at a very expensive restaurant and I’d like you to come with me. I’ll pay. And then we can go home.”

Will smiled. “Your home or mine?”

“It honestly doesn’t matter,” Frederick said, returning the smile warmly.


End file.
